


Sleeping Beauty

by Emma_Oz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fairy Tales, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 11:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma_Oz/pseuds/Emma_Oz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The most gen ever retelling of Sleeping Beauty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping Beauty

‘Damn,’ Harry muttered and he nearly dropped the exhibit he had been handling.

The unexpected clatter alerted Ron who dashed towards him.  He slipped an arm about Harry’s shoulders and looked about for the source of attack.  They were alone in the Enchanted Artifacts room in the Museum of Magic, and Harry held a small stick in his hands.  Harry’s head tipped sideways and for one dreadful moment Ron thought he had passed out, but then he heard a steady, gentle snuffling start.  He looked more carefully at the stick in Harry’s hand and realised it was a spindle.  He picked it carefully from Harry’s grasp and then inspected his palm for the pin prick.

‘You really are a git sometimes, Harry,’ he said affectionately, ‘Fancy sticking yourself with a sleeping charm like that.’

Ron lowered Harry the rest of the way to the floor and replaced the enchanted spindle in its display case.  He read the notes next to the cabinet carefully, and snickered as he turned to his slumbering friend.  ‘Congratulations, Harry, you’re going to meet your true love!’

 

***

 

Since the charm on the spindle was so simple, Ron decided to try to avoid attracting unwanted attention from the museum curators.  He could just imagine how much excitement would be generated by the knowledge that Harry Potter was under a spell at the museum and that his true love would arrive to wake him before sunset.  If one word of this reached Rita Skeeter, she would be there - undoubtedly with a photographer - to publicise the news in the nastiest and most innuendo-laden way.

Ron pulled Harry’s arm over his shoulder and stood up.  Although it was strangely comfortable to feel Harry’s warmth, there was a sizeable height difference and was hard to support him.  He gripped Harry’s waist and walked him to the exit and out into a side garden.  He dropped Harry with more vigour than he had intended and sat down himself on a bench to regain his breath.  

The garden was small and cool, and only the most muffled sounds of everyday Hogsmeade life sometimes crept over the walls.  The air was filled with the scent of roses and the tinkling of running water.  Ron got a drink from the fountain and then turned to Harry who was breathing peacefully through slightly parted lips.  He patted his shoulder and laid Harry out comfortably on the bench.  

‘I hope you appreciate the effort I’m putting in for you,’ he said quietly as he took off his robe and wedged it under Harry’s head.  He paused for a moment and removed Harry’s glasses.

‘And I hope she’s cute, your true love,’  He sat down on the grass by the bench. ‘Hermione would get all narky and say that’s not important, but you don’t want her to be a troll.  I mean, you’re going to be together forever and all.’

He took a breath, ‘Besides, the two of you would look stupid together if she isn’t pretty too.  I mean, you’re... you know... Well, anyway, it would just be stupid if she didn’t look good too.’

Ron blushed and moved to the other side of the small enclosure.  Pulling out his wand, he distracted himself by enchanting some ants.  He began a delicate colour change spell,  ‘Transmutio coloris.’  

A half hour later Ron had an array of brightly coloured ants wandering about the garden, apparently oblivious to their neon  colours.  ‘Check this out, Harry,’ he said with excitement, ‘This one is a Chudley Cannons supporter.’

He glanced across at Harry, and saw that the shade had shifted slightly away from the bench.  He felt his cheek gently.  ‘Are you thirsty?’ he asked.   

Mrs Weasley had packed a lunch for their excursion, and Ron rummaged through it to find a flask of pumpkin juice with a keep cool charm on it.  The day was warm and the flask was beaded with drops of condensation.  Ron rubbed it across his forehead before turning to Harry and shifting him up.  ‘Can you drink this?’ he asked as he held the container to Harry’s lips.  

Apparently Harry could drink, for though his eyes didn’t open his lips parted obediently and he sipped at the juice.  Ron offered it to him mouthful by mouthful, watching Harry’s mouth and throat as he swallowed.  He looked different with his glasses off and his defences down.  When half the liquid was gone he paused and then lay Harry back down.  

‘I hope she’s OK, this true love girl,’ he said as he reached for a sandwich, ‘Damn, corned beef again.  Mum always forgets....  It would be terrible if she turned out to be a Slytherin.  Imagine!.... Ha!  It could be Pansy Parkinson.’  He snorted inelegantly and took a mouthful of pumpkin juice.

He took another bite of his sandwich and went on, ‘And I hope she appreciates you.  You know, not just the great Harry Potter, the one who survived You-Know-Who’s curse.  But you as a person.... Still, I guess if she doesn’t Hermione and I will just have to have a word with her.’

Ron looked across and Harry and adjusted his robe so that his head was pillowed properly.  ‘You’re not the best company in the world at the moment.  Right, I’m going to read, you continue sleeping since you’ve really mastered that.  And we’ll wait for your mystery love who, by the way, must be the least punctual person in the world.’

He picked up the latest Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle comic and then dropped it in excitement. ‘You don’t reckon she’s coming from overseas do you?  Like a Veela suddenly has this urge to fly to Hogsmeade?  Nah, when I put it like that it sounds pretty unlikely.’

Ron immersed himself in the magazine and was genuinely surprised when he finished it to find that several hours had passed.  He checked on Harry again and gave him the last of the pumpkin juice.  He found it hard to look away from Harry’s peaceful but terribly blank face. ‘That was an ace book, Harry. Thanks for lending it to me.’  

Ron told Harry about the story but looked about the garden with some anxiety. The late afternoon sun was shining softly, gilding the flowers and drawing the butterflies.  As he talked Ron did a quick circuit of the tiny garden, checking that there was no one else around.  He even peeped through the door back into the museum but saw no one other than a balding security guard who was idly picking his nose.

‘I’m assuming he’s not your true love,’ Ron told Harry, ‘And not to panic you or anything, but where is your true love?  This charm is meant to work two ways.  You’re meant to fall asleep, OK, you’ve done that.  But your true love is meant to feel this overwhelming compulsion to come and wake you up, and where is she?  Her job is meant to be looking after you, and, by the way, you take a lot of looking after.  And where is she?  Falling down on the job...’  He looked at Harry who lay immobile but for his slow, even breathing.  Ron bit his lip.

As the shadows in the garden grew longer and longer, Ron came to sit next to Harry on the stone bench.  He kicked his feet into the grass with agitation and muttered under his breath, and finally got up to look through the door into the museum again.  ‘Nup, even the fat, bald guy is gone,’ he informed Harry.

‘So where is she?  We’re alone!  I’m the only one here!’ Ron paused and his eyes widened. ‘I am the only one here.  Oh.’

He looked about the garden again, and then at Harry’s defenseless face limned by the last of the summer sun.  ‘Oh,’ he said softly, ‘Been a bit of a git, haven’t I?’  

He moved the bench, suddenly vividly aware of the awkwardness of his body but this awareness faded as he lent forward and kissed Harry.  The kiss was as light as snow, as tentative as the first breath of spring and as simple as a summer flower.  Harry murmured softly, and then blinked.  His eyelids fluttered and then, as the last of the sunlight filled the garden, he looked into the eyes of his true love. 

 


End file.
